Friday, 21 August 2009
Much much less angst: instead, the mind can focus on trivia
At the end of the week it seems useful to reflect on it. As I have become more tranquil, and as our life has been settling back to being just the two of us, my mind is not whirring quite so much. Which really is rather nice. The migraine eventually folded up its tent and stole away into the night, and I have been following my own variety of pursuits all week.
Our little street stuffed up this week. We all put the wrong bins out and were surprised when they were not emptied. It should have been the paper bins, but we all put out the yellow bins with the bottles, etcetera. How foolish we all were, and felt ourselves to be, but we laughed a lot about it. In the course of the conversations I discovered that the neighbour next to the party-givers did actually call the police about the party, about the same time as I went storming across the street. How loud was the noise? the police asked. Listen, said my neighbour, and held up the phone. Oh, right, said the police and came around promptly.
Today I had lunch with my mate the bell-ringer, and we celebrated her happy use of the mezzaluna. I had not yet used my amazing device when makes spaghetti strings out of carrots, and joined discs out of cucumber, but tried it out tonight, and it worked. Of course, I had to actually read the instructions, something I really resent doing. But it is a necessary evil, alas.
Instructions and the reading thereof have been figuring more in my life recently. Dr P wants a mobile phone for when I am going to be away. He had asked his eldest daughter to organise it and she said she would. However I decided to get my act together. My own mobile is almost a genuine antique - in fact, when I bought it, unbeknownst to me, it was a superseded model. Recently the buttons have been developing a will of their own. Perhaps they have reached their teens and think they are old enough to make their own decisions.
So I went and bought a very el cheapo mobile, an unlocked one, and took it home to try it out.
By now I should know that when I touch technology, something bad and unexpected will happen. And so it did.
At this stage I must confess to having had an unused mobile account for several years. When I subscribed to broadband and changed ISPs, allegedly we got a better/cheaper deal if we bundled the broadband with an additional service. As Dr P refused to consider changing the home phone, I opted for the cheapest possible mobile plan - something like $5 a month, plus GST etc. I never used the account, although the SIM card was in my even older phone, but then SD1 took that phone for her 11 year old son, and I was too embarrassed to confess that there was a separate phone number attached to that phone, because she would have been very scornful and have wanted to know why I had done such a stupid thing - and I really wanted to keep such inanities to myself, and not to have to admit to them out loud and look as stupid as I felt. (Being much more mature now, of course, I am confessing on line.)
So. At home, I swapped the SIM cards around, and found that the old one did not work. Next day I took it to a shop, but they could not help me, as I could not remember the phone number. Oh dear. The shop was very unhelpful, but I kindly refrained from pointing this out. They will have added this to their doubtless innumerable stories about idiotic customers. Far be it from me to say they are wrong. Instead I went to the real ISP shop, where naturally they were able to ring HQ, who told me what my real phone number was, and then the shop supplied me with a new SIM card. Now all I have to do is explain to Dr P how to work the phone. He will not be able to remember these instructions, of course, but at least I am sufficiently aware of the inner workings of the phone to be able to explain it.
Back to reading instructions. There is a nice little booklet for the new phone and with a bit of luck it will not be necessary to read all of them - just enough to get me operating the phone on the basic level.
At the computer lessons I am exploring my nice new iPod, patiently explained to me by these brilliant young Apple workers. It does not come with a manual, although I am sure there is a book out there somewhere, which I have no intention of buying. Instead, inspired by the rush of blood/confidence which flooded my head once I had grasped the miraculous iPod in my hot little hand, my attention is turning towards choosing a new digital camera. My photographer daughter can help me with this one. She knows what she is talking about. I just know that I'd like a good optical zoom, a viewfinder (not much chance of this, apparently) and want the camera to be lighter than the old camera. Then, when I go away I can take lots of photos of fabulous places, and of course, load them on my iPod, and on anything else within cooee.
There is nothing like technology to soothe the fevered mind and the tumultuous emotions, or to displace worries about relationships with the nitty gritty of how to turn things on and off. I will only add that in reply to some pressure from Dr P to do something financial I told him I was too stressed to think about it myself this week but if he wanted to do it all for me, he could go ahead. And he did. Perhaps I am learning from experience. At last.